


A Guiding Hand

by libbertyjibbit



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 02:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libbertyjibbit/pseuds/libbertyjibbit
Summary: Interesting reversal, Cornelius stumbling upon Billy and Irving up to no good. But Irving's doing it all wrong and they'll never get anywhere that way. Cornelius, ever the soul of generosity, offers to help out.





	A Guiding Hand

He doesn't think that they hear him coming. He knows that Irving doesn't, too intent on whatever it is he thinks he's accomplishing between Billy's legs. Billy is being unusually quiet, so it can't be  _good_ , Cornelius thinks with a vicious sort of satisfaction.   
  
Irving can't see him either; his back is to him. A lot of trust to display, he thinks, ignoring the memory of how he'd done the same thing before they'd started fucking in earnest, just crawled in between Billy's legs and let him worry about who may or may not stumble upon them. But of course he could trust him, and of course Irving can too: Billy's eyes are wide open and looking straight at him.   
  
He expects Billy to get upset, to force Irving away from him the way he did with him all of those weeks ago, but he doesn't. His chin tilts up slightly as he stares at Cornelius, and if that's a challenge then it's one he's more than ready to accept.   
  
"And just what do we have here?" he says, not bothering to keep his voice down, feeling a wild sort of joy as Irving falls over himself trying to spring away from Billy, spilling onto the floor. There's less pleasure in the sight of his wet and swollen mouth, however, or in the way that Billy's still hard and ready, his prick out and proud for anyone who might wish to see. Cornelius waits for him to fumble himself away, but he doesn't, and Cornelius is forced to give in and look at his face.   
  
The challenge is still there, bright in his eyes now that he can see them more clearly, and Cornelius feels his mouth turning up into a smirk. Billy's mouth twitches lightly, so quick that if he weren't paying attention he'd have missed it. But he always pays attention.   
  
Irving is stammering something, some words that mean nothing, not here and now, and without looking at him Cornelius says, "You were doing it wrong. You'd never have gotten anywhere that way." Tears his eyes away from Billy to look at Irving, rumpled and dazed and still on the floor, good Lord, and schools his face into a careful blankness. Lowers his voice as he offers, "I could show you."  
  
Irving recoils. "No," he says, horrified, and now Cornelius rolls his eyes.   
  
"Okay, not show you," he says. Doesn't look at Billy. "I could talk you through it. Tell you what he likes." Lets the smirk emerge, not real but exactly what Irving would expect with the jab. "I'd know, after all." Keeps his eyes on Irving's face.   
  
Sure enough, his eyes flicker.  _Billy, Billy, what did you do to him?_  It’s delightful, the way that the conflict plays on Irving's face; his desire for Billy clashing with his obvious disgust for Cornelius.   
  
"You don't have to," Billy says softly, kindly, and both of them look at him. He's tucked himself away and is smiling at Irving, but it's a false one; Cornelius knows him better than that. That kind, understanding expression on his face is masking something else. He isn't sure what it might be and that is annoying, but he knows that it isn't understanding.   
  
It works on Irving, though; out of the corner of his eye Cornelius sees him relax, sees him return Billy's smile. He thinks that they're sharing something between them, and Cornelius resists the urge to interrupt, to barge in and remind them both that he's there.   
  
"I-would you-do-" Irving stammers, unsure, eyes darting between the two of them. Cornelius bites his lip hard to keep the smirk off of his face. The first tendrils of real excitement are shooting through him, making his fingers itch to grab onto something. Irving might not know it yet, but he's given in. This is going to happen, whatever it is. All Billy needs to do is -  
  
"He could help." Slight emphasis on the words, soft voice, reassuring smile never faltering. As though Billy isn't aware that he has just cut Irving to the quick, insulted him in the worst way. Cornelius feels himself harden fully, becoming entirely interested in this at last. This is no longer about pushing Irving, not really, not if he can get his hands on Billy again -  
  
"I don't want him to touch me," Irving says, words plaintive, almost a whine. Cornelius bristles.   
  
"Like I'd want to-"  
  
Billy puts a hand up, and Cornelius stops talking. He doesn't mean to, exactly, and he resents Billy for it, but he stays quiet. Lets Billy do the convincing. Knows it won't take much; Irving wants to be convinced.   
  
"He won't touch you at all," he says. "He's just going to talk." A warm glance and a quick flash of a smile at Cornelius. "He's good at that." Eyes back on Irving, he continues, "we'll stop if it's too much."   
  
Irving's eyes are wide and fixed on Billy's face. Cornelius would laugh at the adoration there if it wasn't so sickening.  _What did you_  do? he thinks again. This isn't the Irving he knows. The Irving he knows would have fled by now, reported them both, had them flogged. He wouldn't be hesitantly making his way back towards Billy, once again on his knees. The Irving he knows would never have been on his knees in the first place. Whatever magic Billy's done to turn Irving into this, he hopes it lasts long enough for them both to make sure that he can't go running to Crozier. He's not getting another thirty lashes for dirtiness, nor even one.   
  
But there's something wrong. "No, this won't work," he says, and moves forward. Irving flinches again, and Cornelius barely refrains from giving him a kick. Instead he gives him a wide berth and approaches Billy. "Budge up," he says. Billy does, stepping closer to Irving, and Cornelius slides in behind him. "Better," he says, resting his hands on Billy's hips. "Now I can see."  
  
It's mostly a lie. They are not of a height, and while Cornelius can see over Billy's shoulder it's not the most comfortable position for him. Doesn't matter. This isn't really about teaching Irving anything; has very little to do with him at all. Billy relaxes back into him with a soft sigh, his legs bending just enough so that he can snug his bottom into Cornelius' pelvis, and his fingers tighten on Billy's hips briefly.   
  
"I-" Irving starts, perhaps sensing that he's being left out.   
  
"Quiet," Cornelius says. "Come on, then. Or don't tell me you're giving up now?"   
  
Irving gives him a dirty look and leans forward, opening his mouth.  
  
"Well no wonder he wanted my help. Cover your teeth, man." Cornelius barely wipes the sneer off his face in time, but Irving does as he instructs. Billy sighs again. His hands twitch at his sides, and on impulse Cornelius covers them with his own, brings their laced fingers to Irving's head. Guides him, the way he'd promised. Not for Irving, but for the small gasp Billy gives as Cornelius uses their joined hands to take control of Irvin's speed, sliding him in nice and easy the way he likes. "Slow," he murmurs, and Billy shudders.   
  
Cornelius can tell that Irving is struggling at first; he tries to pull away but Cornelius uses their grip on his head to keep him there. “Relax,” he says, “It gets easier.” He coaxes Irving into a rhythm with their hands, moving his head slowly, letting him know how Billy likes it because it makes Billy swallow down noise after noise, breath stuttering in his throat. He’d thought he’d forgotten this, the rush of making Billy feel good, the way it felt to watch him toss his head and bite at his lips to keep from making any sound. His hips twitch, rock hard prick pressing into Billy’s backside. Billy freezes for an instant before pressing back, and now they’re rocking together, Cornelius forgetting all about instructing Irving as he works them both towards the end.   
  
Billy’s hitches in breath are growing more frequent; he pulls his hands away from Cornelius’ to reach back and grip at his hips, forcing them into closer contact even as he thrusts into Irving’s mouth. The friction is good, but better than that is feeling Billy’s body shake as he starts to come apart. Cornelius pulls Irving’s head back, away, ignoring his whimper as he forces him to retreat until Billy slips from his mouth entirely. “Cornelius,” Billy whispers, and it’s desperate, begging. “Please.”  
  
“Sh,” Cornelius whispers. He pulls Irving’s head back forward until Billy’s prick just rests against his lips. “Suck,” he says, and Irving is too far gone to do anything but comply.   
  
Billy scrabbles at his hip for a moment, body practically vibrating on the verge of release. One of his hands leaves Cornelius’ body to fist in his hair, drawing his head down sharply. Cornelius knows what he wants. He presses his mouth to Billy’s shoulder in a brief kiss before he bites down hard. Billy stops breathing completely. His body arches; the fist in Cornelius’ hair grows almost unbearably tight, his head tilts back as he gives a soundless cry. It’s enough to set Cornelius off, too, and he thrusts himself against Billy’s backside and bites harder into his shoulder to keep himself silent as he spills into his breeches. Irving tugs against his hands and this time he lets him go, lets him pull away. Billy pulls away too, and Cornelius grasps at his hips, trying to keep him close. Billy gently pushes his hands away and steps towards Irving, bends low to speak softly to him. Cornelius can’t make out the words, and his hands curl into fists as he watches them. Irving looks wretched; face red and miserable, eyes down, and while he is sure that he’ll look back on this with some amusement, the first feeling that flares through him is irritation. Who cares how he feels? This isn’t about him; hasn’t been almost from the first. Surely Billy understands that.   
  
Whatever he’s saying seems to be calming Irving down. His face is slowly losing that pinched, upset look and he even starts to smile a little. Billy gestures at him and he shakes his head, face going even redder. Then he looks at Cornelius and scowls, doesn’t stop scowling even when Billy once again tries soothing him. Suddenly, Cornelius feels more cheerful, and he makes sure to grin widely the next time that Irving glances at him. Perhaps this has ruined whatever Irving and Billy have been getting up to lately; Cornelius can’t even pretend to be sorry.   
  
A few more low words, and Irving leaves, although he keeps pausing to send glares over his shoulder at Cornelius. Cornelius is sure to wave merrily each time he does this, just to watch his expression grow blacker and blacker.   
  
“Will you stop that?” Billy finally hisses at him, and Cornelius reluctantly puts his hand down.   
  
“Not going with to see that he’s safely tucked in?” he asks, voice twisting, and Billy stares at him.   
  
“If you anger him he may decide to speak to the captain.”  
  
Cornelius rolls his eyes. “And what, confess his own part in it? I doubt it.” He grins. “Although he’s gone a bit further than simply imagining it of late, hasn’t he Billy? Tell me, how did you pull it off?”  
  
Billy shakes his head. “That’s not why I’m here,” he says. “You’ve nearly ruined everything, you know.”  
  
“Cornelius Hickey strikes again, is that it? Devious seducer, wasn’t it? But I wasn’t the one convinced him, was I?”  
  
Billy looks away. “I-he’ll think that it was because of you. Because we used to –“  
  
“And you’ll do nothing to make him think otherwise, will you?” Cornelius shakes his head. “I’m still the corrupting influence, am I? Well, we’ll see,” he turns away, and Billy grabs his arm, forces him ‘round to look at him. His eyes are wide and pleading, and despite himself Cornelius feels his anger start to slip away.  
  
“Stop. That’s not – I wanted to. You know that. But it’s not –“  
  
Cornelius strides forward, crowding into Billy’s space. “So that’s it, then? ‘Thanks for the help, Cornelius, now I’m going off with Irving?’  _Irving_.” He reaches down and cups Billy through his slops, smiles slow and mean when he finds Billy hard again, when he shifts so that Cornelius can get a better grip. “I don’t think so.” He strokes, and Billy gasps and widens his stance, hips pushing into Cornelius’ hand. “It won’t be like this with him,” he says, croons, and Billy’s eyes flutter. “He has no idea what he’s doing; will probably avoid you for days now anyway. It can’t be very much fun.”  
  
“Safer than this,” Billy grinds out, but he’s still not pushing him away.   
  
“Boring,” Cornelius corrects, speeding up the motion of his hand. His stomach twists, but he grits the next bit out, anyway. “If you think it’s safer to keep him, I don’t mind. You can do that and then we can do this. And you’ve missed this. Come on, Billy. Admit it.”  
  
“Not as much as you have,” Billy says, and for some reason that hits Cornelius hard, strikes him dumb. He doesn’t like it, that feeling, so he redoubles his efforts, deliberately increasing the pressure and doing everything that Billy likes best, driving him over the edge almost brutally fast, then keeping on until Billy keens and pushes at him with desperate hands, unable to take any more.   
  
After, Billy gives him a helpless, angry sort of look. “Okay,” he says resentfully, “okay.” Cornelius debates making him say it, but smiles instead. “But we have to be careful, and Irving – I’ll still be – he can’t suspect,” Billy continues, and the smile fades. Anger wells, and he feels a childish urge to demand that Billy tell him that he’s the one he wants; an impulse he thought he’d cut out of himself long ago, ten years old and wishing that someone would look at him and see past the dirty clothes and hair and to his true potential. He hates Billy for that, wants to punish him.  
  
“Might want to clean yourself up before running back to him then,” he drawls, and Billy shakes his head.   
  
“Always so petty,” he murmurs, then slips past. Cornelius refuses to watch him go; can barely admit that he’s listening to the sound of his footsteps as he walks away.   
  
The footsteps pause for a moment. “I did. Miss you,” Billy says, and his voice is soft and strange, almost choked. For some reason, hearing that makes Cornelius feel like he’s been hit in the chest, and then he does turn to look – can’t help it – but Billy’s already gone.


End file.
